


Somersault

by Raufnir



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood gladnis, FFXV Brotherhood, M/M, bi gladio, brotherhood era, flexible ignis, gladio realising he's bi, gladio sees Ignis doing his acrobatics and has a revelation, gymnastic ignis, rated teen for smooching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 21:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raufnir/pseuds/Raufnir
Summary: Tumblr Prompt about Ignis doing gymnastics in front of Gladio that got slightly out of hand. Gladio sees Ignis in a new light and has a revelation about his sexuality. Ignis is there to see him through it.





	Somersault

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt from Strongheartmaid: I wonder if gymnastics training was something he did for fun. (Bet that annoys Gladio when they spar and he pulls all these fancy gymnast moves out XD)
> 
> I wanted to explore Gladio's more vulnerable and thoughtful side, and also I think it might just strike Gladio out of the blue that he's bi. I wanted to explore that a bit. *shrugs* I hope you like it!

Ignis sighed a blessed smile when he saw that he had the room to himself.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his training, quite the opposite. However, Ignis was by nature a very modest man. He hated attention on him. He hated the limelight; he hated the eyes of onlookers taking special notice of him. All his life, he had trained to be a shadow. To anticipate Noctis’ needs, even Regis’ requirements to a certain extent, before they were even known to the Prince or his father. He prided himself on it. He was damned good at his job.

And so the thought of anyone thinking he was showing off galled.

He went through his usual warmup, making sure his muscles were at least loose before he began to stretch. His normal mix of yoga and calisthenics had him sweating and his muscles beginning to burn after three quarters of an hour. He used the mats in one corner for his yoga routine, and then the grid of bars on the side of the wall for the bodyweight exercises.

As the session drew to an end, his whole body felt tight, tuned like a machine. His skin glowed with the effort, and his blood sang in his ears. He smiled. It felt good. Better than good. A familiar euphoria was settling into his muscles, his very bones.

He had grown into the body he now had, starting as a lanky, spotty thirteen year old, and gradually honing, sculpting his physique until there was hardly an ounce of fat on his six foot frame, and every muscle, though not huge like Gladio’s, became strong and flexible as steel cable.

Using the bars on the gym wall, he lowered himself gracefully to the floor and reached for a towel to wipe the excess sweat from his neck.

Then he took a quick look at the large space, and smirked softly. It had been a while since he’d done any tumbling. Making sure his hands were dry, he took himself to a corner, and, like a gymnast starting their floor routine, he began to tumble. Over and over he went, springing, leaping, spiralling, arcing, landing perfectly each time. 

His final combination, a round-off, back handspring, followed by a double layout with a half twist, had only just landed, Ignis’ hair falling into his eyes, when the doors opened and Gladio stepped inside.

His quick, warm brown eyes did a scan of the room, a long-ingrained habit of military training it seemed, and he took in the sight of Ignis, his chest heaving but his body otherwise still and composed.

“Not botherin’ ya, am I?” he asked, hovering uncertainly in the door. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here this late in the day.”

“Not at all,” Ignis said, breathing heavily. “I… I’m almost finished anyway. I just need to stretch.”

“You mind if I warm up while you cool down?” Gladio asked, making no move to step into the room any further than he already had.

Ignis smiled and shook his head, his sweaty hair irritating his eyes a little. He pushed it back, sweeping it off his face, and said, “By all means, Gladio.”

They stretched together, each on opposite sides of the modestly-sized training room, though when Ignis sank down into a perfect box-split, he did not miss Gladio’s intake of breath. For all the Shield’s strength, he was terribly inflexible. Ignis supressed a smirk.

“Hey… Iggy?” Gladio’s gruff voice spoke up a little while later as Ignis bent himself in half into an effortless ‘pike’, forehead resting casually somewhere on his shins while his hands gently cupped his feet.

“Mmm?” he asked without shifting from his stretch, his voice muffled by the proximity of his lips to his legs.

Gladio coughed. “It’s, er, been a while since we sparred against each other…”

Ignis chuckled softly, easing himself upright to find Gladio kneeling like a warrior in meditation on the other side of the room, torso naked, monstrous tattoo almost complete, with his dark Crownsguard tracksuit covering his lower half. His shaggy, dark hair was restrained at the back in a scruffy bun, and his handsome face looked suddenly shy.

“You mean you want to see if my sessions with Ulric have changed my fighting style?” Ignis asked archly, regarding him with a steady gaze.

His distance vision was a lot better than at close range – not that he’d ever have admitted that to anyone – and Gladio was right on the edge where the zone of clarity bled into something considerably… blurrier. He tried not to squint, though he desperately wanted to see the bashful blush that crept across Gladio’s cheeks with absolute clarity.

“Well,” Gladio grinned, scratching the back of his neck, muscles bunching and rippling in a manner that was most off-putting. He shrugged. “Not gonna lie, Iggy, I’m curious. And… I miss it, you know? We used to train together all the time. I feel like I’m missin’ out on a good workout…” He seemed embarrassed, as though his words had fallen pitifully short of whatever he’d hoped to express.

Ignis had to laugh. “I missed training with you too, Gladiolus,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

“And damn,” Gladio laughed, some of the light playfulness returning to his eyes, “When did you get so… _bendy_?”

Ignis couldn’t resist. He tipped elegantly forwards into a slowly-executed walkover, but instead of landing his feet firmly on the ground, he sank into a graceful splits.

He watched Gladio wince, and could almost feel his big hands twitch protectively towards his own groin at the thought of doing what Ignis was doing. “ _Fffffuck_ ,” Gladio hissed, swallowing thickly.

Ignis brought his front leg round and rose elegantly from the splits on his hands, clenching solid abs to draw his body up into a handstand, toes pointed, before allowing his feet to tip over his head to plant on the ground close to Gladio.

Gladio looked up at him when he was fully vertical again, his amber eyes burning, his lips parted, breath leaving his chest in quiet, shallow pants.

“Tomorrow evening?” Ignis asked, turning and stalking away to drain the rest of his water bottle and slip into a pullover before he got too cold.

Gladio took a moment or two longer to respond than normal, but agreed readily enough. “Same time as we used to meet?” he asked.

“I’ll be ready,” Ignis replied. “Enjoy your workout, Gladio.”

 _Nothing_ could have made _Gladio_ ready for his first sparring session in over a year with Ignis.

It hadn’t been deliberate, but a year earlier, Ignis had requested a different kind of training after a while, having decided that Gladio’s style, while undeniably powerful and effective for his role as shield, was not the style for him.

Now, Ignis was faster, smoother, and infinitely more agile than he had been a year ago.

Gladio could barely keep up with him.

Ignis had chosen a lance as it better matched Gladio’s greatsword, but honestly, had Ignis fought him bare-handed, it still would not have been enough of a handicap.

Finally, Gladio managed got his body in gear and stepped it up a notch. He slipped into a focus that Ignis found intoxicating, learning to read Ignis’ new style, learning to block his lightning-quick attacks as they lanced in towards him, always an inch from his skin, no closer no further. A sweat broke out over Gladio’s whole body, but his eyes remained dark and focused. He revelled in the challenge, his every heartbeat urging him forwards. He began to gain some ground, and with the slow, inexorable pace of a boulder, he drove Ignis back.

And then suddenly, Ignis had sidestepped him, flitting around him like a shadow, leaving _him_ boxed into a corner of the room.

With a growl of goodhearted frustration, Gladio lashed out with a gigantic swing that he should have known better than to use against anyone outside of a real combat situation.

Shit!” he cursed as the blunted blade – still a massive weight of steel even if the weapon had no edge – swung in a horizontal arc right at Ignis’ chest.

But the blade never struck home.

Gladio blinked, the tip of the sword falling limply to the floor with a dull clunk as he watched Ignis wheel backwards like he was on a sprung floor, taking him well out of range of the weapon. His lean legs followed behind in a graceful arc, and he landed a moment or two later, a curious, unreadable expression on his face. He’d even had time to slide his lance along the floor so that when he landed, he could pick it up and continue.

Except, the fight was over.

Gladio just stood there, dumbstruck.

“Holy _shit_ , Ignis,” he gaped after a few moments, and Ignis began to laugh, self-consciousness painting his cheeks pink.

It was a soft, affectionate laugh; the kind one best friend offers another. “I’ve made one or two changes, I suppose,” Ignis said after a while.

When Gladio seemed to be making no move to rejoin the match, or even try and speak again, just standing there mute and stunned, Ignis scoffed and blushed a little.

“Come now, Gladiolus,” he said, one hand sinking to his hip. “It’s nothing you’ve not seen any Glaive do a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t _you_ ,” Gladio said immediately, the words just falling off his tongue before he stop them. His voice was harsh and rough with an emotion that seemed to take Gladio by surprise.

Silence billowed between them, and the atmosphere changed. It became charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. Ignis stood there with a curious look blooming across his beautiful face, while Gladio slowly reddened.

“I mean… I just… wasn’t expecting it, that’s all,” Gladio finally stammered, turning away and rubbing idly at the wrist of the hand that held his sword. He coughed and stowed the weapon back on the racks.

“You’re done already?” Ignis asked, striding over towards him, brows forming a silent question. A shadow of concern brushed over his face too. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Gladio smiled over his shoulder, though the space behind the expression was hollow and blank.

Ignis’ frown deepened into a scowl. “Gladio –?” he began but the shield cut him off.

“I gotta go, Iggy,” he said, his voice half an octave deeper than usual, and coarse as sandpaper now. “I’ll… Yeah. Thanks for the session. I’ll see you… around…”

And with that, and with the customary bow at the door of someone with a lifetime of martial arts training, he was gone.

Ignis stood there, sweat chilling on his skin as the door closed, his brilliant mind playing over every detail of Gladio’s shifting expression, like he was watching it frame by frame. He could recall the exact moment Gladio had come to a realisation: a realisation that shook the foundations of everything he had believed and known until that point. It was one Ignis had made a good three years earlier.

He sighed and smiled, the steel muscles in his back and shoulders relaxing a little as he let out a fond laugh. “At least we’re on the same page now,” he mused aloud, if a little sadly. He had no idea how Gladiolus Amicitia, heir to the heritage of the Shields of Lucis, would take such an epiphany about his sexuality.  

Gladio was nowhere to be seen in the showers afterwards, and Ignis did not encounter him again until late the next day.

Ignis was tired. Behind him lay a day of meetings and appointments, of ferrying the prince around and running errands for him, of doing favours for others. Soft shadows hung beneath his prickling, dry eyes, and, much to his annoyance, there was an ink blotch on his cuff that had been scratching at his awareness all afternoon like a burr in a soft cashmere jumper.

When he saw Gladio, however, sitting on a low wall beneath a blossoming cherry tree, leaning his weight forwards, elbows on his thighs, back bent, Ignis softened. Gladio was loud and brash, quick to laugh and quick to shout; he was rarely still, quiet, and there was something even a little sad about the set of his huge shoulders.

Silently Ignis paced over to the wall and sank down beside him on Gladio’s right side, so close their thighs touched. Gladio had his trademark baseball cap on, and Ignis reached his fingers up and tugged it playfully down over the shield’s closed eyes.

Gladio jumped, looking round and half rising before realising who it was. “Hey,” he said, those expressive eyes, golden and wild as a wolf’s, locking onto Ignis’ own eyes for a moment.

“Gladio,” Ignis said, his voice steady and even. He dropped his left hand to Gladio’s right shoulder, thumb and forefinger squeezing his muscle gently through the fabric of his thick hoodie.

Silently, Gladio asked him a question, his face mapping every thought, every swirling emotion inside him. His heart bared and raw, he held it out to Ignis with a single, insecure, terrified look.

Ignis smiled and moved his hand from Gladio’s shoulder to cup his jaw, thumb tracing a line across the tanned skin of his cheekbone. He repeated the gesture, and Gladio leaned into his touch, eyelids fluttering closed. He exhaled a shivering breath. “Ig,” he whispered.

“I know,” Ignis replied, his right hand moving to take Gladio’s huge palm between in his fingers.

At the touch, or perhaps at the words, Gladio laced his fingers between Ignis’ and clenched tightly around him. “I’ve never… I didn’t know I was… you know…” His eyes opened and they were so full of fear, it tore Ignis heart clean in two right there. “I don’t even…”

“If it’s any consolation,” Ignis replied in as even a voice as he could manage. Gladio was shaking slightly beneath his touch. “I’ve always known my own preferences were not for women.”

“I don’t even know now,” Gladio rasped. The raw emotion in his words cut Ignis to the bone.

“I don’t need you to know that,” Ignis said.

Gladio remained still, his eyes drifting back to the falling petals around them.

“But I do need you to know that I have always been yours, Gladio. And should you decide that you want…” he faltered, his courage running on fumes now that it actually came to the moment; the moment he’d fantasised and played over in his mind countless times. “Should you decide that you’d like to try…” he broke off again, squeezing his hand in frustration around Gladio’s scarred knuckles. “I would like very much to…”

Without warning, Gladio moved. He grabbed the collar of Ignis’ shirt and tugged him into a rough, stubbly kiss.

After a stunned moment or two, Ignis found his own mouth moving, kissing Gladio back, gradually beginning to search for more than he’d been given. Gladio offered himself up to Ignis freely, and Ignis' tongue tasted first his chapped lips, and then, as Gladio’s lips parted, he tasted Gladio himself.

Ignis’ eyes rolled closed. This was what he’d thought of when he’d awoken some mornings, his mind clouded with lust. This was what he’d imagined late at night, alone in the bedroom of his modest city apartment.

Gladio pulled back, brows pinched with uncertainty, but Ignis could only smile. “Gladio,” he breathed, lips pulling upwards at the corners.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

Less hesitantly, Gladio did as Ignis asked, and Ignis found himself moving to sit astride Gladio now, Gladio’s huge palms skimming up beneath his shirt, over his lithe back, then down to where Ignis’ hips ground softly into Gladio’s thighs.

“If I’d known all it would take was a little gymnastics,” Ignis panted breathlessly a moment later, “I’d have asked you to spar much sooner.”

Gladio managed a playful, lopsided smirk, before he tugged Ignis’ slim hips further up into his lap. “Let’s see just how good at gymnastics you really are,” he growled between their fevered kisses.

“Oh,” Ignis purred. “I should think I’m _more_ than flexible enough to satisfy your needs and your curiosity, Gladiolus.”

Gladio’s only answer was a muted grunt, and Ignis felt just how hard Gladio had grown beneath him. “You free tonight?”

Ignis nodded and tipped that ridiculous baseball cap back off Gladio’s head so that he could grip his thick hair in his fingers and kiss him the way he’d wanted, _ached_ , to kiss him for years.


End file.
